


Not that bad

by thesassiestangel



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorder, Other, Self Harm, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesassiestangel/pseuds/thesassiestangel
Summary: The reader (Sherlock's sister) develops an eating disorder. How will she react when he finally figures out what she's doing? (sorry, I hate summaries and it's late)Trigger warning for eating disorder and mentions of self harm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably go back and edit this later, but I've been procrastinating on finishing this for too long, so I just want it up. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it :)

It wasn’t that bad. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But an eating disorder is an eating disorder, no matter how you look at it. And while the physical abuse your body endures from it can be dreadful, the emotional abuse is just as difficult.  
The most impressive part was that your brother Sherlock hadn’t noticed yet. He prided himself on his deduction skills, but he never caught on to your skipped meals. At least not until you were too deep in your ways.  
The fact that Sherlock never said anything fueled your eating disorder. He had to have noticed – he was Sherlock Holmes, after all – but he never mentioned it, which led you to believe it wasn’t a problem. He probably thought it was a good thing, that you could stand to lose a few pounds.  
The truth was that you were so careful with your lies and excuses, and made sure to eat in front of him when you could (though you usually didn’t finish, but then, you never had had the biggest appetite), that he never did notice. It wasn’t until you had lost a few pounds that he even commented. He didn’t sound suspicious or accusatory, so you assumed it was a good thing, and continued with your habits.

You kept skipping meals, and Sherlock kept not saying anything. Originally, you had just been skipping lunch most days – you liked to eat breakfast, and dinner was a necessity since you usually met Sherlock for dinner at his place (which was pretty easy to manage, since you lived in the flat above him). Eventually though, your stomach began to shrink from lack of sustenance, and even when you wanted to hold down your food, it was impossible. You would eat dinner with your brother most nights, though your portions grew smaller and smaller. You mostly just pushed the food around, sometimes sneaking it into a napkin in your lap to dispose of when you got up from the table. You almost never threw up your meals, because that was a sign of a real problem. You weren’t bulimic, because you didn’t throw up, and you weren’t anorexic, because you still ate (even if it was nowhere near enough), and thus you saw no problem with your less than healthy eating habits. Sherlock was inconsistent himself, so you saw no harm in your own mindful starvation.  
To be fair, this hadn’t begun as a way to lose weight. Well, you supposed that had been part of it, but the main reason was the control. You loved that you were not controlled by food and hunger – at least, that was your perception. Sherlock saw it differently, of course, when he finally asked you about it.

It was a Wednesday night, and you had just finished dinner at Sherlock’s (not that you had eaten much more than a few bites).  
“Alright well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you said as you pushed back your chair. You were already halfway out of your seat when Sherlock told you to wait. You slowly lowered yourself back into your chair, though you didn’t push yourself back to the table. You were nervous, mostly because Sherlock looked uncertain of himself, and that never happened. The last time you had seen him look so uncertain was when he found out you had been hurting yourself, and he asked you why.  
“You didn’t eat very much, are you sure you don’t want any more?” he asked.  
You faltered. You had known this would happen sooner or later, you just weren’t ready for it. You had grown comfortable in your habits, since nobody had said anything thus far.  
“Yes, I’m sure,” you said firmly, despite your initial hesitation. “Now, if that’s all you wanted…” You stood up again, and started to head for the door. The dizziness hit you on your first step – you had stood up much too fast, and now your vision was so dark and spotty that you could barely make out Sherlock’s face. He grabbed your wrist to stop you as much as to support you.  
“I know you haven’t been eating.”  
If you hadn’t been so dizzy, you might have responded with something sarcastic and defensive. Probably something like, ‘Yeah, well it’s not like you have a huge appetite yourself, so just leave me alone.’ As it was, however, you were using all your willpower to not pass out. You leaned heavily on the table, and after a few moments your vision started to clear.  
“Whatever gave you that idea?” you asked, trying to prolong the inevitable.  
“You just almost fucking passed out on me, I should have noticed – said something – sooner,” he replied. Since you knew him so well, you were able to detect the hint of guilt that he was trying so hard to hide.  
“No no no no. Don’t do that. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine,” you said, staring him straight in the eyes.  
“So you admit you have a problem?” Sherlock asked triumphantly.  
“I never said that.”  
“It was heavily implied.”  
“Well, you misinterpreted. It was bound to happen at some point. I’m leaving.” You removed your hands from the table and began to angrily storm towards the door. Sherlock was up and standing in your way within moments.  
“No, we’re going to sit down and talk about this. I want to help you,” he said softly but forcefully. “This isn’t healthy.”  
You tried your best to ignore him, to walk around him – anything to avoid this conversation, this inevitable conversation – but he turned you around and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, walking you over to the couch. You were too tired to resist.  
“Talk to me Y/N,” he said softly, once you were both seated. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you been eating?”  
You knew you were caught, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. “You’re the detective, why don’t you tell me,” you snipped at him.  
He looked hurt, and you cringed. This is why you don’t deserve to eat. You were about to apologize, when Sherlock began talking.  
“I think there are a few reasons, the main two being control and punishment. It started out innocently enough, and it was a gradual fade into eating practically nothing, which is why I never said anything. Originally, it just seemed as if you were cutting back your portions. I meant to keep a closer eye, try to deduce if there was anything more sinister behind the smaller portions, but I was too wrapped up in my work to give you my best effort. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”  
You looked confused. He was apologizing… to you? This seemed wrong.  
“I’ve been an awful big brother, and I should have said something sooner, but I’m saying something now. I hope I’m not too late.  
You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be healthy. You deserve to eat. You have total control over your life, you don’t need to starve yourself for that. You can do anything you put your mind to. You are not alone in this life, I will always be here for you, and I’m sure John would offer the same. I love you sis, and I want you to be happy.”  
You were almost crying at this point. Sherlock didn’t seem to blame you, and he even understood (at least, analytically) your reasons. He wasn’t always the best with emotions, but when it really came down to it, he was perfect.  
“I can’t just… go back to eating normally like nothing ever happened. This is going to be very hard for me, and I’m not even sure I want to right now.” How could you possibly give up the thing that had kept you sane for the past few months? You had grown used to the ache of hunger, and it was somehow calming to you. The thought of eating more food nauseated you.  
“I know sis, I know it’s going to be hard. But you deserve to be happy and healthy, and you can’t truly achieve that unless you eat. I know it’s going to take time, but I will be here for you every step of the way. And they’ll be baby steps. I won’t push you farther than you’re comfortable with, unless it’s absolutely necessary to your continued survival. Please?” His expression was so raw and pleading, that you couldn’t just ignore him.  
“I suppose, I suppose I could try,” you said softly.  
The relief on his face made you forget your doubts, forget how big of a challenge this would be, at least for the moment. Sherlock wrapped you in a big hug, and you buried your face in his shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, it would be possible for you to get better, as long as you had the support of your older brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. They are my sole motivation sometimes. Thank you! And stay safe lovelies xx you deserve all the happiness <3


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